Ticci Toby
Creator: Kastoway ☀''this was taken from creepypasta wiki credit goes to the original author'' . The long road home seemed to go on and on. The road continued to outstretch in front of the vehicle endlessly.The light that shone through the branches of the tall green trees danced across the window in random patterns, every once in a while, obnoxiously shining in your eyes. The surrounding was full of deep green trees forming a forest around the road. The only sound was the sound of the cars engine as it traveled down the path. It was peaceful and let off a serene feeling. Although the ride seemed like a nice one, it lacked every form of ‘nice’ for both passengers. The middle-aged woman behind the steering wheel had neat short brown hair that fit her complexion quite well. She wore a green v-neck t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. Diamond stud earrings decorated each of her ears which partially showed from behind her hair cut. She had deep green eyes which where brought out by her shirt, and the lighting seemed to make them more noticeable. There wasn’t much significance to her appearance. She just looked like any ‘average mother’ that you’d see on t.v. shows and such, but one thing for sure made her differ from those ‘average mothers’ and that was the dark bags under her eyes. Her facial expression was gloomy and sad, although she genuinely looked like one who smiled a lot.She would sniffle every once in a while, and occasionally glance back in the rear-view mirror to look back at her son in the back seat, who was hunched over partially, his arms held tight around his chest, and his head pressed against the cold window. The boy lacked any normal appearance, anyone could blandly see that something was wrong with him. His messy brown hair went in every which way, and his pale, almost gray skin was brought out by luminescent lighting. His eyes where dark, unlike his mother’s and he wore a white t-shirt and scrub pants that had been provided to him by the hospital. The clothes he had worn before where so shredded and blood stained, that they weren’t ‘wearable’ any more. The right side of his face bared a few cuts along with his split eyebrow. His right arm was bandaged up all the way up to his shoulder, which had been shredded when his right side had hit the shattered glass. His injuries appeared to be painful, when really he couldn’t feel a thing. He never could feel a thing. That was just one of the glories about being him. One of the many challenges he had to face growing up, was growing up with the rare disease that caused him to be completely numb towards pain. Never before had he felt himself get hurt. He could have lost an arm and felt nothing. That and another major disorder he had faced, was the one that deemed him many insulting nick names in the short time he attended grade school, before he was moved to home schooling was his Tourette syndrome, which caused him to tic and twitch in ways he couldn’t control. He would crack his neck uncontrollably and twitch every once in a while. The kids would tease him and call him Ticci-Toby and mock him with exaggerated twitching and laughing. It got so bad he turned to homeschooling. It was too hard for him to be in a common learning environment with seemingly every kid poking, or more like stabbing fun at him. Toby stared blankly out the window, his face was empty of any depict-able emotion, and every few minutes his shoulder, arm, or foot would twitch. Every bump that the car tires hit, made him stomach turn. Toby Rogers was the boy’s name. And the last time Toby remembered riding a car, was when it crashed. Thats all he thought about. Unconsciously replaying everything he had remembered before he blacked out, over and over again.  Toby had been the lucky one, when his sister hadn’t been so lucky. When the thought of his older sister came, he couldn’t help but let his eyes begin to tear up. The horrible memories replayed in his mind. Her screaming that had been cut off when the front of the car was smashed in. It all went blank for a moment before Toby opened his eyes to see his sister’s body, her forehead pierced with glass shards, her hips and legs where crushed under the force of the steering wheel, her torso pushed in from the late inflated air bag. This was the last thing he had seen of his dear older sister. The road home continued on for what seemed like forever. It took so long to get home due to his mother wanting to avoid passing the sight of the crash. When the surrounding gave into a familiar neighborhood, they had both been more then ready to get out of the car and step back into their own home. It was a older neighborhood, with quaint little houses all next to each other. The car drove in front of a little blue house, with white window panes. They both quickly noticed the old vehicle that was parked in front of the house, and the familiar figure who stood out in the drive way. Toby felt automatic anger and frustration take over him at the sight of his father. His father who wasn’t there. His mother pulled the car up into the driveway beside him before turning off the engine and preparing to step out and face her husband. “Why is he here?” Toby said quietly as he looked back at his mother who reached to open the car door. “He’s your father Toby, he’s here because he wants to see you,” His mother responded with a monotone voice, trying to sound less shaky. “Yet he couldn’t have driven up to the hospital to see Lyra before she died,” Toby narrowed his eyes out the window. “He was drunk that night honey, he couldn’t drive-” “Yeah when is he not,” Toby pushed open the door before his mother and stumbled out onto the driveway where he met his father’s gaze before looking down at his feet with a stern expression. His mother stepped out behind him and met her husbands eyes before walking around the car. His father opened up his arms, expecting a hug from his wife, but she walked passed him and put her arm around Toby’s shoulder and influenced him to begin walking inside. “Connie,” her husband began to say under a raspy voice, “What no welcome home hug huh?” She ignored her husbands obnoxious words and walked passed him with her son under her arm.  “Hey, He’s 16 he can walk by himself,” his father began to follow them in.“He’s 17,” Connie glared back at him before opening the door to the house and stepping inside. “Toby, why don’t we get you in your room to rest okay? I’ll come get you when dinner is ready-” “No, I’m 16 I can walk by myself,” Toby said sarcastically, and glared back at his father before stumbling up the small stair case and turning into his room where he slammed the door violently. His little room didn’t have much in it. Just a small bed, a dresser, a window, and his walls had a few framed pictures of his family, back when they where a family.  Before his father became an alcoholic, and acted violently towards the rest of his family. Toby remembered when he was arguing with his mother and he grabbed her by the hair and shoved her to the floor, and when Lyra had tried to break it up, he pushed her and she hit her back on the corner of the kitchen counter. Toby could never forgive him for what he did to his mother and sister. Never. Toby didn’t care how much his father beat him down, he couldn’t feel it anyway, what he did care about was how he intentionally hurt the only two people he cared about. And when he waiting in the hospital, where his sister took her last few breathes, the only person who didn’t rush there, was his dad. Toby stood by the window and looked out onto the street. He could have sworn he saw things out of the corner of his eye, but quickly blamed it on the medication he had been put on. When dinner time had come around and his mother called up to him, Toby came down the stairs and hesitantly sat down at the table across from his father, and in between his mother and an empty chair. It was quiet as his parents picked at their food, but Toby refused to eat. Instead he just watched his dad with a blank stare. His mother caught onto his stare towards his father and elbowed him slightly. Toby looked over at her slightly and look down at his uneaten food, in which he didn’t touch. Toby laid in bed, he pulled his covers over his head and stared at the window. He was tired but there was no way he would fall asleep. He couldn’t, there was too much to think about. He had been debating on wether or not to follow his mothers directions and forgive his father, or continue holding a grudge with his boiling hatred. He heard his door creak open, and his mother padded into the room and sat on the bed next to him. She reached over and rubbed his back, which had been turned to her. “I know its hard Toby, trust me, I understand, but I promise you it will get better” she said softly. “When is he going to leave?” Toby said with a innocent tone in his shaky voice. Connie let her gaze fall down to her feet. “I don’t know honey, he's staying as far as I know,” she replied. Toby didn’t respond. He just continued to look forward at the wall, holding his damaged arm near his chest. After a few minutes of silence, his mother sighed, before she leaned in to kiss his cheek and stood up to walk out of the room. “Good night,” she said as she closed the door.  The hours passed slowly, and Toby couldn’t quit tossing and turning. Every time he let his imagination take over, he heard the screeching of tires, the screaming of his sister, and he could uncontrollably jerk in bed. He threw off his covers, laying on his back, he pulled his pillow over his face and cried into it. He could feel his chest rise and fall as he let out each shaky breathe as he cried. He could hear his own pitiful weeping. He would have been screaming and crying if he didn’t press his pillow over his face. After a few seconds he threw the pillow off his face as well and sat up, hunched over, holding his head and breathing roughly, tears streaming from his eyes. He couldn’t help but cry. He tried to keep it in, but he couldn’t help but whine and whimper as he sat there shaking. He inhaled before he stood up and walked around his bed to the window and peered out, taking deep breathes trying to calm down. He rubbed his eyes and looked out at the group of tall pine trees across the street. He stopped suddenly, and his gaze slowly centered on something standing under the street light. He heard ringing in his ears and he couldn’t look away. The figure stood beside the street light, about 2 feet shorter then it, long arms draped at it’s sides as it stared up at him with non-existing eyes. The figure had no features what-so-ever. No eyes, no mouth, no nose, yet it held Toby’s hypnotized stare, seemingly peering into his very being. The ringing in his ears grew louder and louder each second he stared before suddenly it all went black. The next morning Toby woke in his bed. He felt different. He wasn’t tired at all, and when he consciously woke up, it felt like he had been lying there, awake for hours. He had no thoughts flowing through his mind. He sat up slowly and stumbled over to the wall, but when he stood up he automatically felt dizzy. He stumbled to the doorway and walked down the stairs. His parents where sitting at the table, his father was in-tuned with the small t.v. that sat on the counter top, and his mother reading the newspaper. She quickly looked over when she felt Toby’s presence looming behind her. “Well, good morning sleepy head, you’ve been sleeping forever,” She greeted him with hesitated smile. Toby slowly looked over at the clock and noticed that it was 12:30 p.m. “I made you breakfast but it got cold, I was going to wake you, but I felt you needed sleep,” her expression fell from happy to worried as her son resisted responding to her. “Are you alright?” Toby stumbled over and sat by his father. He felt as if he was on idle, and had no control over his actions. He was seeing everything he did, but it didn’t seem to register in his brain properly. He reached out to to his fathers arm, but his hand ended up getting slapped. His father turned to him abruptly and pushed his chair over with his foot. “Don’t touch me boy!” He yelled. His mother stood up, “Alright knock that off! That is the last thing we need!” The days went by, and things continued on as they where. Connie spent most of her time cleaning up the house, and her rude husband spent most of his time ordering her around. It was just how it used to be before the crash.Toby never really left his room. He would sit by his bed, and tremble. His mind would wonder, but his thoughts changed to fast to be remembered. He would pace around his small room like a caged animal, or stare out the window. The unhealthy cycle continued.Connie continued to be pushed around by her husband, being way too submissive to him, and Toby remained in his room. Before he could think twice, he would begin to chew on his hands, tearing the flesh from his fingers. He would gnaw his hands until they bled. When his mother walked in on him while he was doing so, she reacted horribly. She rushed him downstairs and grabbed the first aid, wrapping his hands in it. She demanded that he wouldn’t leave her side from then.He isolated himself so much that he grew to hate being around others. His memory grew glitchy as well. He’d start missing memory of minutes, hours, days, and so on. He would begin talking nonsense, about things completely unrelated to conversations he would have. He’d go off about seeing things, sharks in his sink as he washed the dishes, hearing crickets in his pillows, and seeing ghosts outside his bedroom window. All the nonsense landed him in a counselors office. His mother grew too anxious about his mental health, she decided it would be good for him to talk to a professional about what he was feeling.Connie walked Toby into the building, holding his hand and guiding him in. She walked him up to the front desk and began talking to the lady who sat behind it. “Mrs. Rogers?” The lady asked. “Yes that’s me,” Connie nodded, “We’re here to see doctor Oliver, I’m here with Toby Rogers ” “Yes, right this way,” The lady stood up and lead them down a long hallway. Toby looked at the framed artwork down the halls and tuned in to the sound of the lady’s high heels on the hard wood floor.  She opened the door to a room with a table and two chairs.  “If we can get him to sit in here for a few minutes, I’ll get the doctor,” She smiled and held the door open. Toby stumbled into the room and sat down at the table. He looked over at his mother and the lady before the door slowly shut behind them. He looked around the room before he held up his tightly bandaged hands and began to bite at the bandages to unwrap his hands, but was interrupted as the door swung open and a young woman in a black and white spotted dress and light blonde hair stepped in, holding a clip board and a pen.  “Toby?” she asked with a smile.